


Carry You

by destielwithashotgun



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Debbie doesnt exist, Dehydration, FRANK SUCKS, Fever, Frank sucks honestly, Homelessness, Ian deserves the world, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Other, Protective Fiona Gallagher, Protective Lip Gallagher, Sick Ian Gallagher, Sickfic, Sorry About It, Very different than canon, Vomit, Winter, but also based on canon, neither does liam, or carl - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:34:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29813325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielwithashotgun/pseuds/destielwithashotgun
Summary: Living in a car is something Fiona has done for half her life. Ian and Lip have been doing it for most. They have a good system. But things always go to hell when one of them gets sick.Basically the story Fiona tells in 3.07, but the characters are aged up (Lip: 15, Fiona: 17, Ian: 14)And of course, I added more angst to it. Also, the other three siblings don't exist.
Relationships: Fiona Gallagher & Ian Gallagher, Fiona Gallagher & Ian Gallagher & Lip Gallagher, Fiona Gallagher & Lip Gallagher, Ian Gallagher & Lip Gallagher
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	Carry You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends. I love shameless with all my heart, and the story Fiona tells when she's trying to convince the judge to give her custody really hit me. I decided to write about my feelings of course, while also changing everything. 
> 
> Disclaimer: My medical knowledge is next to nothing. Please do not judge me on this.

Living in a car is something Fiona has done for half her life. Ian and Lip have done it for most. Ever since Frank blew their one shot at inheriting a house just a few blocks away from where they usually park their car, the Gallagher's had pretty much accepted that they would never have normal lives. Ian and Lip could hardly remember a time they didn't live on the streets anyway. At least a car kept them a little warmer in the cold Chicago winters. 

Both Fiona and Lip had jobs, old enough not to be questioned and forgotten enough that the school system didn't much care if they stopped attending. Ian still had at least another year before the school system decided they didn't care about him anymore, but that didn't mean he didn't spend all his free time running scams or, when needed, stole (for the greater good, obviously). 

All their money went into the squirrel fund, which Frank enjoyed raiding about once a month and then fucking off on a bender. There were only so many places in a car you could hide any money that was earned, so each Gallagher kid had a different plan for some of their earnings. 

Lip kept some of his money behind a lose brick in the back of a bar called the Alibi. Fiona's money was kept with an old lady running a laundromat, who always forgot she was holding Fiona's money for her in a safe, which meant it was also safe from being stolen. Ian didn't exactly say where he hid his money other than the squirrel fund, but at least a few dollars went into emergency savings. 

Their system went about as well as could be expected for a few homeless teenagers, as long as Frank didn't discover any of their secret hiding places, or punch Ian in the face enough times he decided it wasn't worth a beating. 

Fiona hadn't told either of her brothers that she was putting extra money into her emergency fund, hoping to buy an apartment as soon as she turned 18 in a year, saving both her and her brothers from homelessness. They hadn't noticed she sometimes brought home extra money from a second job, a job she wasn't exactly ashamed of, but one she wasn't willing to share with them. 

As many problems as they all had, the Gallagher's loved each other (well, excluding Frank.) They took care of each other. And even though they had their own lives outside of the car, they had a "No Gallagher Behind" policy. They looked after each other. Especially when one of them got sick. 

Ian returned to the empty car first, parked in an alley behind in the grass behind an abandoned movie theatre. Neither of his siblings were back, and Frank was never really there anyway. He climbed into the backseat, pulling his coat closed against the wind, and shut the door tightly. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead that dried almost as quickly as it appeared in the Chicago winter. 

Ian dumped the dollars he had gotten after school under the middle seat, then sat back against it. The headache behind his eyes hadn't faded, and before he realized, he had dropped off into sleep. 

Lip got 'home' next. He noticed Ian sleeping, but given as their wasn't much to do in the car besides sleep, he didn't worry about it. Instead, he pulled out some comic books he had read a billion times and started reading in the fading light. 

Fiona returned soon after, letting her hair down from the high ponytail it was trapped in. She would leave again in a few hours, but they ate dinner together most nights. She was already reaching for the peanut butter jar in the backseat while Lip got the bread in the center console. 

Their movements were synchronized, slow and quiet to avoid waking Ian until they had too. Lip slapped three peanut butter sandwiches together and reached out to jostle his brothers shoulder while Fiona grabbed her own. 

"Ian?" 

Ian mumbled something, turning his face into his coat and keeping his eyes shut tight. Fiona and Lip exchanged glances, and Fiona climbed over into the backseat. Years of living in a car had made her graceful in navigating the worn out seats. 

She brushed a hand against his forehead quickly, frowning. Ian turned into her touch, seeking the coolness of her palm, but didn't open his eyes. 

"He has a fever," Fiona said. "And not a low one." 

Lip looked up at her, concerned. One of them getting sick often meant all of them getting sick. The cold and the lack of food, plus the close quarters, meant that one germ could take them all down. Maybe hard enough to take them out of work. And they didn't like to use the emergency money unless they absolutely had too. 

Lip held the peanut butter sandwich out in front of Ian's face, a silent offering. 

Ian's eyes opened slowly, but he turned away from the sandwich. "I'm good," he mumbled. He still seemed to be half asleep. Fiona pulled his hood up higher and looked at Lip, who was putting away the sandwich for later. They wouldn't talk about their concerns when Ian could hear, but both of them knew there would be trouble. 

The Gallagher kids had a system at night. Usually two of them slept in the middle row, the seats pushed down like a bed. One of them, usually Fiona, who came and went often, slept in the passenger seat. Frank never really bothered to show up at all, but if he did he usually passed out in the drivers seat. Or halfway in the drivers seat. He never seemed to realize his kids were there at all, which was fine with them. They avoided the car as much as possible when Frank was there. 

In the coldest winter months, all three Gallagher's would sleep in the middle row, huddled together sharing blankets and body heat. Their system changed slightly only then. Fiona always slept on the left, Lip on the right. Ian stayed in the middle. 

At first, it was instinct to keep him there, the youngest, where hopefully the least amount of harm would come to him. Both Fiona and Lip were protective over him anyway, not like he couldn't take care of himself. But then they realized it was a good thing. Ian looked most like Monica, and if Frank came back when he was the angry sort of drunk, it would most likely be Ian he would drag out of the car to pick on. At least if he was in the middle, Ian wasn't likely to be taken by surprise when he's sleeping. 

For this night, or any night when one of them was sick, the system changed slightly. Ian was still in the middle, since it was him with a fever, but he spread out horizontally now, head on Lips lap and legs on Fiona's. Neither of his older siblings leaned their chairs back, too worried that they might miss something if they let themselves fall too deeply asleep. 

Only a few hours after they had eaten dinner, Fiona knew she had to leave again. Lip knew it too. Even if she was worried for her younger brother, she still had to work. If she didn't work, they didn't survive. And they were already running low on money. 

"I'll try to pick up some medicine on the way back, ok?" She asked. No money would go into her emergency fund tonight, not if there was a chance she would need to use it for Ian. Lip nodded, half smiling. His hand was in Ian's red hair. 

Ian had hardly stirred when Fiona had lifted his legs off her and climbed back into the front seat. 

"He'll be ok," Lip told her. Neither of them knew if that was actually true, but it helped to say it. At least a little bit. Fiona took one last look at Ian, the fever spots on his cheeks, and then left the car as quickly as possible, hoping to keep the cold air out as much as possible. In seconds, her shadow had disappeared. 

Lip glanced down at Ian, eyes tracing the red spots on his cheek and the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Was he too warm?

All the Gallagher's looked slightly sickly, thin and pale. When they were younger, it helped them run scams with older, sympathetic adults. Now, it just made them look weak. And on the Southside, you couldn't be weak. 

This time, Ian looked worse than usual. He was even shaking slightly, though sweating. Lip and Fiona had layered blankets over him before, even when being next to him felt like being next to a heater. Lip wondered if he should take them off. 

He didn't have much time though, because suddenly Ian bolted straight up and fumbled for the door handle on the right side. He barely got the door open before he was leaning out of it, throwing up onto cracked asphalt. Lip took a second to react, jumping back in shock for a second before realizing what was happening and wrapping an arm around Ian's chest so that he didn't fall out of the car. 

The cold wind blew over their seats, making Ian shake harder as he finished vomiting up his lunch. It wasn't much. When it seemed like he was finished, Lip pulled him back into the car and shut the door to ward against the cold (and the smell). 

"Shit," Ian gasped as he collapsed against the seat. 

Lip wordlessly handed him a water bottle. Ian drank slowly, wincing when he washed the taste of vomit down his throat, and nodded slightly. 

"This does not feel like a hangover," he said tiredly. His voice was raspy, rough from cold and whatever flu he was stuck with. 

"Hangovers don't usually give you hundred degree fevers," Lip replied. Ian looked at him, shocked. He had to have known he was sick, of course, but he was always a little confused when he had a fever. 

"A hundred degrees?" 

Lip raised his eyebrows. "Actually, we haven't checked. We didn't want to wake you up. Hold on." He managed to turn and reach into the very back of the car, grabbing the first aid kit and bringing it forward. 

The first aid kit was sad really. There was only a thermometer, a few bandages, and a tiny tube of off brand Aquaphor inside. Frank had long ago taken any drugs they might have used to try getting high with. Medication didn't last long in their car either. 

Ian was already dropping back off into sleep when Lip pulled the thermometer out. It was an old fashioned one, one that went inside your mouth, and it was probably dirty. Lip wiped it on his shirt quickly and decided it was good. 

Ian's eyes were half closed when Lip leaned forward, pushing the thermometer between his lips. "Just hold it there for a second, ok?" Ian made some sort of noise of confirmation, but his head was already falling to the side. 

Only a minute later, Ian's head fell onto his shoulder. Lip caught the thermometer as it fell out of his mouth, bringing it closer to read. 103.2. Way too high for anyone, especially a homeless teen with no meds. But there wasn't much they could do about it. 

Lip sighed, pulling Ian closer to him and trying to fall asleep himself. Somehow, he managed it. 

He didn't know how long he had been sleeping. Fiona was still gone, so it couldn't have been more than three hours. Ian somehow felt warmer, his forehead against Lip's neck. And Frank was pulling at the door. 

It was clear that he was drunk. He stumbled, his eyes half closed and glancing around wildly. He seemed to struggle with the door before he managed to get it open, climbing into the drivers seat almost gracefully. 

He didn't even seem to notice his kids in the backseat. In fact, he started the car. 

"Frank," Lip said. Frank grunted, half turning to look at him. 

"Ah, my offspring," he slurred. "Listen, I need a little favor." 

Lip ignored him, like they always did when Frank started out on one of his ungrateful kids rant. This time though, he talked over Frank. 

"Ian is sick. At the very least, he needs to stay here. Not go wherever you're planning on taking the car. And he needs meds, ones that you took from the first aid kit." Talking to Frank was always practically useless, but this time Lip felt like he had to do something. 

Frank narrowed his eyes, this time looking down at Ian, who was laying across Lips. The blankets piled over him hid most of his face. 

"Looks fine to me!" Frank declared. Lip grit his teeth. "Listen," the man continued. "I need to get going. And you made a good point when you said Ian couldn't come. You! You can't come either. It is a very delicate deal you know." His speech was becoming clearer now, though that didn't mean anything when talking about Frank. 

"Yeah? Where do you think we're gonna go?" Lip asked. He shouldn't have done it. Frank was out of the car surprisingly fast, ranting the entire way. He pulled open the left side door, grabbing Ian's legs before Lip could react and yanking him out of the car. 

"Hey!" Lip yelled, but he couldn't fight Frank. Not that he hadn't done it before, but now was not the time. Not when Ian was sick, and worryingly hadn't woken up when he was tossed in the snow. That was clearly bad. 

Frank reached in the pull Lip out as well, but Lip didn't let him. He jumped out himself, moving towards his brother on the ground. Almost before he could turn, Frank was already back in the drivers seat, still raving about kids who didn't appreciate their parents. He had driven drunk before, more like all the time, and he barely wavered when he pulled out of the alley.

"Dammit!" Lip growled. He crouched next to Ian, who hadn't even seemed to notice he was no longer in their car. Maybe the snow felt good to him. "Ian," Lip called, reaching out to push at his brother's shoulder. Ian didn't stir. 

Now, Lip was slightly more concerned. "Ian?" He shook the kid a little harder, but once again, Ian didn't wake. "Ian!" No matter what, his brother's eyes stayed closed. 

Lip panicked. He wasn't sure how to get Ian awake, and he wasn't even sure how to do it when he heard Fiona's voice from across the street. 

"Lip? What the fuck happened?" Her coat was pulled tightly around her, her hair tossing wildly in the wind. Lip could hardly feel it. 

"Frank," he said. He didn't have to say more. Fiona nodded, kneeling down next to both of them. 

"Why isn't he awake?" 

"I don't know! Frank dragged him out of the car and he didn't even move. I don't know what's wrong, and Frank took the first aid kit away when he drove off to make a deal. We can't check his temperature." 

Fiona and Lip looked at each other for a long moment, both thinking the same thing. They didn't have money for a hospital, but the free clinic had to be able to do something. 

"How are we going to get him there?" Lip asked after Fiona suggested it. She looked grim. 

"We're going to have to carry him." 

Lip was without a coat, Ian without shoes, but they didn't have much of a choice. Lip and Fiona each took one arm and draped it over their shoulders, bracing themselves against the wind as they walked. 

Occasionally a car would go by, and Fiona would desperately stick a thumb out in the hopes that someone might help. It would have been easier scoring crack than a ride to the clinic. They probably looked like three stumbling drunks. Ian's socked feet dragged against concrete and snow, and in the back of her mind Fiona knew she should be worried about frostbite. Or even hypothermia, since Lip wasn't wearing his coat. Being under the blankets with Ian had felt like a space heater. 

Finally, finally, they could see the lights of the clinic in the distance. The Gallagher's had never been so grateful to find a free clinic in their lives. They stumbled through the doors, ignoring the other injured, sick, Southsider's, and making their way to the front. 

"My brother is sick and he won't wake up. He has a fever," Lip said before the lady at the front desk could do anything. Apparently, it was enough to get them immediate attention. And that was where they ran into the problem. 

Maybe it was the sudden warmth of the clinic, maybe the coughing and crying of the others in the waiting room, or maybe it was the absence of his siblings, but the second they put Ian down on the gurney, his eyes fluttered. And yet he didn't seem all there. He gripped Lip's shirt tightly, and he refused to let go. 

"Is he delirious?" Fiona demanded. "What's happening?" The nurses didn't yet have an answer, but Lip pried Ian's fingers off his shirt easily enough. He was too weak to hold on very tightly. 

Obviously, Ian didn't like that very much, and he attempted to sit up. The nurses kept him down. 

"You can come back with him, as long as you keep him calm," a younger nurse told Fiona and Lip. They accepted eagerly, and though Ian was obviously confused, he finally relaxed enough for a nurse to slide a long needle into his arm to calm him down. Ian fell against the gurney, his eyelids fluttering. 

"Is he going to be ok?" Lip asked. He was ignored. 

More nurses pushed Fiona and Lip back and back and back against the wall, until Ian was surrounded by people in blue scrubs. Fiona heard them call out his temperature, 104.8, and demand ice. Lip was trying to get a glimpse of his brother in between the nurses. 

Only a few minutes later, both siblings were pushed out of the room, a very strict nurse demanding privacy. Lip and Fiona sat defeated in cheap plastic chairs, unable to fall asleep while they waited for news of their brother. 

Lip wasn't sure how long it had been when a doctor came out calling Ian's name. He was on his feet before he realized it. Fiona was right next to him. 

"Is he ok? What happened? Why wouldn't he wake up? We thought it was just the flu." She fired off questions in rapid succession, but the doctor held up a hand to stop her. Her face was gentle, reassuring. 

"I'm Dr. Lind," she said. "And I want to start out by saying that we are doing everything we can for your brother. But this is a free clinic, not a hospital, and there is only so much we can do. We can't keep people for long." 

Fiona looked like she wanted to say something, but Lip interrupted her. "We understand." 

Dr. Lind nodded. "Ian came in with a high fever. It was causing some delirium. He was also very dehydrated, which was part of the reason he wouldn't wake up earlier. We have given him fluids and gotten his temperature down, but if things get worse, you will need to take him to a hospital." 

"We can't afford that," Fiona said sharply. To most people, it would seem mean. But Lip could hear the fear in her voice, and apparently the doctor heard it too. She looked at the two Gallagher's, none older than 18, shivering in clothes filled with clothes. Working in a free clinic guaranteed she saw a lot of this, but her sympathy was sparked either way. 

"I'll lead you back to where we have him," Dr. Lind said. She reminded them they couldn't stay forever. Both siblings ignored her. 

She led them to Ian's bed, then left them alone. 

Ian was deathly still, but he breathing was calm. They had given him a thing blanket, which must have meant the doctors weren't too afraid of him overheating. At least, they weren't actively trying to cool him down, and that was reassuring. 

Fiona trailed her fingers over the IV giving Ian fluids, then slowly moved the tube out of the way. It was the same as in the car. Fiona laid next to him on the left, Lip on the right. Both were exhausted. 

When Dr. Lind came back, she found her patient surrounded by his siblings, curling into their warmth. The doctor smiled and, ignoring protocol, left the Gallagher's alone.


End file.
